For the first time in a long time he regrets doing it.
Just because he's happy in New Directions
Just because he has friends
Just because he might be reconciling with Kurt
Doesn't mean that he hasn't needed the release
The scratches are thin from the fresh package of box cutters
Thin and fading
He likes running his hands over them in class as he's thinking
The mark from English is almost gone
The mark from AP Government has melted into his golden tan skin
The fine white lines of integration and differentiation along his spine have almost healed.
The scar from Burt Hummel remains
He'd almost vomited when he'd heard.
His heart had frozen in his chest, and his breath had caught in his lungs.
If he'd had to choose a man to be a father, Burt Hummel would have been his model.
The line was deep and sharp and painful.
A single perfect cut.
Now, he's on a train praying to whatever or whoever is listening that the mark will heal.
Because he's managed to hide it this far from everyone
Mr Schue, Miss Pillsbury, his parents, New Directions never knew he cut at all.
Kurt doesn't know he relapsed
Wes might have guessed, but he can't prove anything. The marks were faded and when he cuts, he goes over the same old scars.
If it was one or two, he could say they came from Lord Tubbington. Or catching a nail. Or falling off his bike.
But, one bad one combined with half a dozen healing scars is too indicative.
One bad one that still hurts.
One bad one that is still red weeks later when the others have faded
One bad one that will be pink, then silvery white.
He doesn't want Kurt to know because he doesn't want to ruin this Christmas.
He doesn't want to think about the possibility that Christmases in the future might not be like this for Kurt.
He doesn't want to think about the fact that children are dying.
He doesn't want to think about hunger and homelessness
He doesn't want to think about sickness
He just wants this season to be magical again
A magic that heals bodies and friendships